


1 a.m. Fic #4

by redtribution



Series: 1 a.m. Fic [4]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: 1 a.m. Fic, Angst, Canon Divergence, Comfort, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtribution/pseuds/redtribution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Anslo Garrick pt. 2 had gone differently and the Cavalry had arrived earlier. Companion piece to 1 a.m. Fic #3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 a.m. Fic #4

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the beginning of Anslo Garrick pt. 2. This one is pretty poorly written and there's a lot of ooc stuff in it, but I felt like Fic #3 needed a fluffy companion piece, so here it is. This comes off as pretty Lizzington, so Lizzington shippers will probably enjoy it.

“Well, who might this be? Someone you know, Red?” Anslo asked.

Reddington swallowed. He had held out hope until this moment that Lizzie had made it out of the Post Office, or at the very least had taken refuge somewhere. The sight of her stoic expression as Anslo’s thugs marched her across the floor sent his heartbeat into overdrive. In that instant, his mind began working through every possible outcome of her capture. It was not a promising list.

Anslo’s men removed Luli’s body, and Anslo himself grasped Lizzie’s arm and gestured to the floor with his weapon.

“Please,” he said, indicating that she should kneel. It was all the incentive Reddington needed.

He sprang into action. With laser focus, he strode to Ressler and began shaking him, attempting to wake him.

“Ressler!” he commanded, but the FBI Agent remained limp and lifeless. Reddington slapped him viciously across the face. When that proved ineffective, he jammed a thumb into Ressler’s injury. Ressler jerked awake, shouting in pain.

“Augh! Son of a bitch!”

“Look at me,” Reddington said, his voice low and urgent. “I need you to focus, Donald. I need the code.”

“What code?”

“The code to open the box.”

Ressler grimaced in pain. “Oh, God, my leg.”

Reddington ignored him. “Donald, tell me the code now.”

Ressler seemed to sense the urgency in Reddington’s voice. He lifted his head to gaze through the glass door, to where Anslo held a gun to Lizzie’s head.

Reddington glanced back at Lizzie. Her face remained a mask of courage, but he could see the cracks in it. The way her brows knit together slightly, like she was holding back tears, the way her lips parted slightly. She met his eye with a look that seemed to convey comfort, but Reddington wasn’t appeased.

“Do _not_ give him the code, Agent Ressler. That’s an order!” Harold barked.

Reddington watched as Lizzie met Resslers eye. Ever so slightly, she shook her head.

Without a moments warning, a single shot rang out.

Reddington choked on a _“no!”_ His legs went out from under him and he collapsed to the floor, blacking out for a few seconds. When he came to, his face was pressed to the cold metal floor, his bloody hands on either side of his head.

_He shot Elizabeth._

Or had he?

Reddington lifted his head. Beyond the box, he could see that the entire post office was in commotion. Anslo’s men were scattering. Slumped against the door of the box, limp and lifeless, was Anslo himself. And there, cowering next to him, was Lizzie.

Reddington pushed himself to his feet and strode to the door of the box, taking stock of the situation. Vested FBI agents had suddenly appeared at every corner of the Post Office. Anslo’s men had abandoned their stations, making a desperate bid for freedom. As the last of Anslo’s men made a break for an exit, they were pursued by armed agents. At last, both the pursuers and the pursued vacated the room. Assured that the situation was secure, Reddington had eyes only for Lizzie.

When the bullet had been fired, she appeared to have curled herself up on the ground, her back to the box. Reddington put his hands on the door and slid down to a crouch.

“Lizzie?” he said. “Lizzie, are you alright?”

Lizzie stirred, and Reddington breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to look at him, her face covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice muffled by the glass. She leaned against the box, unsteady due to her bound hands.

A moment later, Dembe appeared at Liz’s side. He pulled a knife from his pocket and slit the zip ties binding Lizzie’s wrist. After sharing a brief glance with Reddington, he moved on to free the other bound members of the post office.

Though Liz had been freed, she didn’t move away from the box. She turned to look at Reddington, her face almost level with his.

“What about you?” she asked just loudly enough that he could hear her. “Are you okay? How’s Ressler?”

Reddington glanced back at Ressler, who had propped himself up on his forearms.

“I’ll live,” Ressler moaned.

Reddington looked into Liz’s eyes. He opened his mouth to say “I’m splendid,” but the words wouldn’t come. He tried again, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. All he could think was that because of him, Anslo had held a gun to Liz’s head. She had nearly died, and it was his fault. He felt foolish, weak, unable to find the words to reassure her.

Liz paused, surveying Reddington with a mixture of confusion and concern. Evidently Reddington’s feelings were written on his face. Without speaking, Liz moved to a kneeling position. She placed her hands so that they were pressed against the glass right in front of Reddington’s. Reddington found suddenly that he could not meet her eye. A rush of air escaped his lungs without his permission. He leaned his forehead against the glass, squeezing his eyes shut.

The alarm signaling the opening of the box sounded. Reddington opened his eyes to see Harold, his hand pressed to the sensor. He surveyed Reddington with a look of confusion. Reddington stood, turning his eyes back to Lizzie as the box began to slide open. The second the opening was large enough for him to escape, Reddington darted through it. In a moment, he was at Liz’s side. He collapsed to his knees, gathering her in his arms. He fit his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. She was warm and slightly sweaty and mercifully _alive_. Liz hesitated for a moment, taken aback by his abrupt and public display of love. Then, with a soft “ _it’s okay,”_ she wrapped her arms around him and gently kissed the side of his head.

Liz held him for a few long moments. Then, quietly, she squeezed him and said “Red.” Reddington became aware that it was very quiet in the post office. Reddington lifted his head and, for the first time since the shot had been fired, turned his attention from Lizzie.

Around the Post Office, every eye was turned in his direction. From Harold Cooper’s utterly dumbfounded look to Meera Malik’s tearstained cheeks, all eyes were on Reddington and Liz’s embrace. Reddington released Liz and averted his eyes from the watching crowd, feeling an unusual sense of embarrassment. Liz set a hand on his shoulder, and her gaze was slightly wary, as though afraid he might break.

Incredibly, it was Ressler that saved the situation.

“Hey,” he said angrily, “don’t mind me, I’m just bleeding out over here.”

At that, everyone sprang into action. Just like that, the Post Office was again alive with activity. Agents moved around Reddington and Liz as though they weren’t even there. All, that is, except for one.

Meera Malik approached the two of them. In a low voice, she directed Liz, “take him to your office. I’ll bring you both a cup of tea.”

Liz nodded and rose, pulling Red to his feet. The two of them maneuvered quietly toward Liz’s office. Liz herded Reddington inside, turned on the lights, shut the door, and drew the blinds. Reddington took a seat on the edge of the desk, regaining control of himself now that the adrenaline of the moment had subsided.

Liz turned to him and folded her arm across her chest. She seemed to teeter for a moment on the verge of saying something, but changed her mind at the last second. “What was that?” She asked.

Reddington raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean, Lizzie?”

Liz rolled her eyes. “That…display! What were you thinking?”

“I—” Reddington began, about to make an excuse, but then stopped. It wouldn’t do. He shook his head, meeting her eye openly. “I wasn’t.”

Liz furrowed her brow. “You weren’t what?”

“Thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Their gaze stretched between them. Reddington knew that Liz was naturally defensive, that it wasn’t in her nature to let her guard down. He didn’t expect her to. The next moment, she surprised him.

The tension went out of Liz’s shoulders. She unfolded her arms and crossed to the desk. Taking a seat beside Reddington, she slid her hand into his and laid her head on his shoulder. Reddington let out a slight sigh, kissing the top of her head tenderly.

“I’m sorry,” Liz whispered.

“It’s alright, Lizzie.”


End file.
